


His Favor

by decotex



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, But also, Fluff, Multi, Self-Reflection, i swear to god it's not straight up porn, just trust me i guess, loki is slave leia, sakaar is a kinky place, there's some, weirdly not tagging character relationships because spoilers? kind of? idk man
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 23:25:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12617924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decotex/pseuds/decotex
Summary: Thor arrives on Sakaar to find that Loki already holds the Grandmaster's favor.This gets glossed over, which is unfortunate because it's a hell of a story.What really happened, from the moment Loki was fell out of the Bifrost to the moment that he ran into Thor, in the Grandmaster's lounge. Loki navigates the kinky scrapheap that is Sakaar.Feat. murder, WD-40, some deep emotional baggage, and leather pants.





	His Favor

Loki landed on his arm and screamed.

You’ll have to excuse him.

In the span of an hour, he’d been ousted from his hard-won position as King of Asgard by his _idiot_ of a brother, dragged to Mid - excuse me, _Earth_ , to find his _asshole_ of a father, and had then been, for lack of a less disgusting or more appropriate word, _slurped_ into an infinite vacuum into which he fell for a solid half-hour by the hand of a sorcerer, which - sure, apparently Earth has those now - and then had been forced rather unexpectedly to confront his estranged father on top of what looked like the saddest cliff in Wales (which is saying something), who had rather unexpectedly revealed that he had an evil half-sister, and then who had rather unexpectedly _died_ by way of dispersing into a field of gold dust, which Loki didn’t even have fifteen seconds to emotionally process before the aforementioned sister, who had, at this point, been aforementioned as of about thirty seconds prior, appeared in an almost personal trademark-infringing cloud of green fog and crushed Thor’s hammer in her bare hands, at which point Loki’s “Nope” meter hit a solid eleven and he made the executive decision to _get the hell out of there_ , which would have been ideal if the surprise evil sister hadn’t tagged along and punched him into the fourth dimension and more importantly _out of the Bifrost_ , leading to him falling for a very long time for the second time in not quite an hour, and eventually landing him _here_ , of which he had no opinion on as he had not yet opened his eyes.

And now you’ll have to excuse me, because the first statement was a bit of a lie. Loki didn’t land on his arm so much as he landed . . . _through it._

He screamed again but with a little less fervor this time, and then followed that up with, “Christ almighty gods of the nine realms _fuck,”_ through gritted teeth, because between his planet-hopping and his questionable status as an actual god, and also, mostly, _the arm thing_ , his swears had gotten a little convoluted.

He opened his eyes.

The sky was blue. That was nice.

He turned, and that was a mistake; the fleshy, bloody pile under him that had not so long ago been a perfectly adequate arm evidently still had some nerves attached. He held in the scream this time, clenched his fists - well, fist - dug his nails into his palm, and waited for the pain to subside.

He was surrounded by trash, a feeling with which he was not unfamiliar but for the first time was unfortunately very literal.

Scrap metal, piled high, formed little towers all around him and as far as he could see in every direction, which was one. He watched, as a portal opened up from the sky and deposited what looked like the remains of a WWII battleship far into the distance, where it crashed to the ground, toppling nearby piles of scrap.

There was a whirring noise behind him, and then voices. Aggressive voices.

Standing, then. It was the only option.

He closed his eyes for a moment, rallying, and then pushed himself to his knees, and then to his feet.

He turned.

What looked like an amalgamation of the rejected Ewok costume designs stared back at him.

“Hello,” Loki said, standing as steadily as he was capable of at that moment.  

“Food?” said one of the creatures.  

Loki shrugged. “I could eat.”

One of the creatures lunged at him with a spear. Loki, mostly out of muscle memory, grabbed the spear with his right hand and shoved it back down the creature’s throat.

They stared. The impaled creature gurgled.

“Bagnak,” said one of the creatures, at last. They formed a semi-huddle and began talking in lowered voices. Loki, his senses dulled due to recent events, only caught bits and pieces. There were the words “fighter,” and “not good” and several unsubtle indications to the remains of his arm.

Loki took a moment to look it over. It was - well, it wasn’t _great_ . Crushed by the force of the fall and by his own body weight, his upper arm guards had crumpled into the bone, which had torn his flesh rather dramatically from his bicep to his wrist. His left hand, which had been hanging on for dear life by the few stands of ligament and muscle that hadn’t yet been severed, chose that moment to drop to the ground in a fleshy, dusty _thud._

Loki, sort of at a loss, picked it up.

The creatures turned to him, clearly having reached a decision.

“You will come with us.”

“As I have no better options, I will. Voluntarily. So there’s really no need to-”

A small metal disk shot out of the crowd and implanted itself on his chest. There was a truly horrible electric sensation, and then blackness.

\---

Loki faded into consciousness slowly.

“ . . . will wish to see him.”

“Of course. But he must be properly prepared, to meet her majesty.”

There were hands on his bare chest. They were soft and not immediately threatening, so he didn’t give much thought to why they were there, what they were doing, or where his shirt had gone. Those were “30-40 seconds from now” thoughts.

“Will it be adequate, I wonder? You remember what happened to the last one.”

“Well, who’s to say. His arms are kind of small. He’s - hey, he’s waking up. Hey, guy. Wake up. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

Loki opened his eyes.

He was lying on a table, staring up at a man and a woman. They were rubbing lotion onto his chest which - he’d mentally circle back to that. A cursory glance around the room revealed that he was in a sort of medical bay, but one you’d only go to if you were disbarred or possibly a serial killer.

The woman smiled at him. She was pretty, with bright blue eyes and green skin.

“You’re lucky,” she said. “The queen likes you. She has a thing for - what do are you lot called? Humans.”   

“How flattering.”

Loki checked himself. He was still wearing pants, which was great. He, somewhat nervously, looked to his left, and then paused.

“Tell me this isn’t a robot hand.”

“It’s not a robot hand.”

He relaxed somewhat. “Good.”

He made a fist, testing it. Everything appeared in working order. He flipped the bird, just in case Heimdall was watching.

He pushed himself into a sitting position and looked between the both of his attendants, who were standing on opposite sides of what he hoped was an operating table but was probably just a regular table.

The hands slid off him and they stepped back, somewhat placidly. He ignored the feeling of oil running down his chest and seeping into his leather pants - as much as one _can_ ignore that feeling - and smiled.

“I’ll be honest. This is a much more pleasant awakening than I had expected, given the circumstances.”

The woman shrugged. “Sorry about _them_ . They can be a bit rough. It’s all about _food_ with them - whether they should eat right then, or sell the poor thing to _him_ in exchange for more food. With you, well, they found a compromise. You were lucky.”

“This queen you mentioned - benevolent, perhaps?”

“To some.”

“And what is she queen _of?”_

“You ask too many questions,” said the man. “The queen awaits. Get dressed.”

“Yes, about that. If I could just have a towel-”

The man held out a pile of fabric to him. It was. Well. It was mostly transparent, and there wasn’t a lot of it.

“Your costume,” said the woman, smiling brilliantly.

“My costume.”

“Yes.”

He considered killing them, right then and there. But Loki was nothing if not clever, and he knew that these people had removed the various knives he kept on his person, and that they were probably armed, and that there were probably many more armed people very close by, and that he was perilously, worryingly low on context right at this moment, and sometimes you’ve just gotta take one for the team.

“Okay.”

It was less horrible than it seemed, it turned out.

“Keep them on,” the woman had said, when he’d started on the buttons of his pants. She looked him in the eye. “She likes leather.”

“Gladly.”

The rest of it was a sort of flimsy, impractical non-shirt, which did little to cover anything. Again, he considered the murdering everyone option, but no. And besides - he caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the blacked out windows and he was kind of working it.

“The queen has very specific tastes. She wanted you fixed up immediately and brought before her.”

“An audience with a queen. Truly an honor.”

“Oh, it is!” said the woman, brightly. “It is!”

“And which of you do I have to thank for reattaching my hand?”

The woman laughed, which sounded like spring birds with tiny bells tied around their necks.

“Oh, that’s not _your_ hand.”

Loki paused.

“ . . . Whose is it?”

She shrugged.

Loki took a deep breath. There was a lot going on, but sometimes you have to deal with the immediate details before you can begin to consider the bigger picture.

“See, I was very attached - no puns please  - to my hand, and I distinctly remember picking it up before I was _tazed_ , and I’m having a rather _trying_ day so if I could just ask - where is _my_ left hand?”

The man pointed.

On a plastic folding chair, there was a small metal container filled with ice. The necks of bottles stuck out of the ice, as well as a few fingers.

“You’re keeping _beer_ in the medical icing capsule that contains my _hand?”_

“No,” said the man, giving him a look. “We’re keeping your hand in the beer cooler.”

\---

The chamber Loki was led to was composed completely of scrap metal, much like the rest of the compound. Several of the smaller creatures who had threatened him earlier scampered past him, expressions unreadable.

A woman sat on a pile of pillows, backlit by large repurposed windows that gave full view of the scrap piles that seemed to continue on forever into the distance.

She was draped in cloths, and as such was not clearly visible. A pipe stuck out of the cloth covering her face.

“You’re beautiful,” was the first thing she said, when Loki walked in.

“I appreciate the compliment. Your palace is . . . lovely.”

“It’s garbage,” she said, flatly. “But it’s all garbage. The domain I rule over is one of lost things, and of lost people. The unwanted. The forgotten. We are the scraps.”

“I’d love to wax poetic about the tragedy of consciousness, but I’m having quite a day and I’d really just love to get a solid answer on this one - where am I?”

She inhaled deeply before answering.

“Hell,” she said, dramatically. “You are in hell.”

“Again, looking for a solid answer. Like, a general star system, even. Coordinates would be ideal.”

“You’re on Sakaar. The universe’s garbage dump.”

“Was that so hard? Now this entire - this is a planet, I’m assuming?”

“Assume nothing, idiot boy.”

“Okay,” he said, brushing off his handlers and walking towards her. “I’ll take the demeaning outfit but that attitude isn’t going to-”

The electric sensation ran through his body again, and he feel on his hands and knees.

“Watch yourself,” said the queen.

Loki took a breath.

“Let’s try this again,” he said, flashing her a smile. “This, whatever it is, this _place -_ what’s it like? Pitch it to me. Sell me a timeshare on the amazing plane of existence which is _Sakaar_.”

She took a drag on her cigarette.

“Alright. You amuse me, so I’ll humor you. For now. Sakaar is surrounded by wormholes. So all of this, all of everything, ends up here. There’s my domain, the scraplands. We scavenge what we can find. And then there’s, well, there’s . . . “ She shifted, uncomfortably. “There’s _him.”_

“Him?”

“Him. He doesn’t bother us, and we don’t bother him, and in this way we coexist as rulers of this horrible, horrible, trash heap which is Sakaar. Him, in his palace, and me, in my scrap.”

“Sounds lovely. And may I ask how one _leaves_ Sakaar?”

“One _doesn’t_.”

“I see. And finally, to my last point - may I ask why I’m standing here, half-nude and covered in WD-40?”

“For my pleasure.” She gestured to the right of the room, where several similarly dressed men lounged on cushions and various surfaces.

“Of course. Obviously.”

There was a beat, and then Loki groaned and covered his face with his hands.

“What?” asked the queen.

“I’ve spent too much time on Earth,” he said, mostly to himself.  

“What?” she demanded. “What is it?”

He glared at her. _“I’m slave Leia.”_

\---

The slave Leia situation lasted exactly fifteen hours.

As far as imprisonment goes, Loki had seen worse. They gave him food, or something that might have passed for food if you were starving, which Loki was not. Mostly he lounged and bided his time, and nursed his arm, which was still healing.

He didn’t think, or at least, he tried not to. It wasn’t in his nature to idle. But he avoid the big things, the thoughts that were too much to process in this state, in this place. Instead he focused on the little things, like the fact that there were sizable shards of broken glass a few feet behind the throne cushions, where the queen sat.

The little things.

At the fifteen hour mark, there was commotion.

One of the creatures ran in and said something to the queen in a language that Loki did not speak.

“Here? Now? Why would he-”

And then the doors opened and a man strode in, flanked by several guards.

“The Queen of the Junkyard,” he said, spreading his arms. “What an honor.”

“Likewise,” said the queen, standing for the first time. “Although I have to wonder what the _Grandmaster_ is paying me a visit.”

“Come now, I can’t-”

“Excuse me.”

They both turned to look at Loki, who was lying horizontally on several cushions.

“Hi, yes, sorry to interrupt. Just to clarify, this is the guy, right? This is _him?”_

“Yes,” snapped the queen.

“Hmm,” said Loki, sitting up and brushing himself off. “The one with the, you said, palace?”

“Oh yes,” said the man. “I have a palace. It’s _fantastic_. There’s this amazing arena, and I actually just had this new hot tub installed with water jets in my second favorite lounge, which is on its way to becoming my first favorite lounge.”

“Okay,” said Loki, standing up and stretching. “Just checking. Please, continue with your conversation.”

“The slave will be punished for his _impudence,”_ spat the queen. “But as I was _saying_ , Grandmaster-”

“You _weren’t-”_ mumbled the Grandmaster.

“All of our operations are completely within the realms of our terms. My scavengers take what we need for ourselves, but of course leave the best pieces for you, and we would _never_ think to encroach on . . . ah . . .”

The queen made a gurgling noise, and then fell to the ground, twitching. Blood pooled from the gash in her neck.

Loki stook behind her, holding a bloody shard of glass.

There was a beat.

“Just to be sure,” said Loki, after a moment. “I _did_ read this situation correctly, yes? The implied hostility? Because if not, my apologies - although I can’t exactly _unslit_ her throat, so, that’s a bit of a lost cause.”

“No, no,” said the man, waving him away. “No worries. Thank you, actually. Saved me the trouble. She has a -” He waved his hand forwards, and the air rippled red in front of him. “A sort of, weird, force field type thing that made her an absolute _headache_ to kill. Scavengers, what can you do, am I right?”

“Entirely.”

Loki dropped the glass shard, wiped his hands off on the queen’s robes, and walked towards the Grandmaster, holding out his hand.

“Loki. God of, of many things, no need to get into it. Forgive the outfit.”

“No apology needed,” said the Grandmaster, shaking his hand. “I actually kind of like it. Not to, I mean, I’m not attracted to you in that way, just to clarify. I don’t mean to be weird, but you know, we just met and I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot.”

“No, no. It’s fine. Although I’m going to be honest with you, oil and leather is really not a good long-term option.”

“Oh, god no. Do you want a shirt? Or something? Brent,” he said, elbowing the guard next to him. “Give him your clothes.”

“That’s really not necessary, although I appreciate the offer. But just - again, to clarify, did I hear mention of a palace?”

“You did! And,” He snapped his fingers. “We’ll have the tailors make you new clothes once we get there, how does that sound?”

“That sounds amazing. And I will follow you to your ship after one quick detour to the med bay.”

“What’s in the med bay?”

“A long story and a cooler of beer.”

Once Loki had left, the Grandmaster turned to one of his guards.

“I like him.”

“Weird, though.”

“Yeah, but I like his whole,” He made circular gestures with his hands. “His _thing_ , you know? And I like his priorities.”

The Grandmaster turned to leave.

“And also,” he added. “Not to be weird, but I’m definitely going to borrow those pants.”

“But sir, they’re all oily.”

“Brent - _I know.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. 
> 
> So hi. 
> 
> I've been mia for so long and I swear I have a good reason. I also swear that I've got a good story for you guys here. I haven't written ANYTHING in almost a year, so shout out to Ragnarok & Taika for getting me back into it. I'm writing this blind, as in, I'm not checking any tags or reading any fics or looking up any fan stuff about the movie. I watched it and now I'm writing this, and once I finish (should be today or tomorrow) I'll dive into all that good stuff and see what's up. 
> 
> Again, I plan to finish this either today or tomorrow. 
> 
> Honestly I couldn't witness a planet as kinky as Sakaar and NOT write about it.

**Author's Note:**

> decotext.tumblr.com
> 
> i love you all


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